Bonds Forged in Blood and Fire
by Dreaming of a Bright Sky
Summary: A one shot sequel to 'Magic's Call', but it can almost stand alone as a futurefic, AU. Peter comes back; turning Stiles' whole world upside down and threatening Derek. Rated for canon level violence and possibly some swearing. Sterek


**Bonds Forged in Fire and Blood**

_A sequel to Magic's Call, but it can almost stand alone as an AU/Future fic with a Magic!Stiles_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters!**

_Author's note: This one has been rattling on my brain and sort of forced me to write it before 'Too High a Price' was even finished. I've been holding onto it, waiting to finish the series before I posted this.  
new note: an apology to early readers. Apparently auto correct on the document area didn't like parts and removed them. I think I've fixed them all_

Warning: violence. Some swearing.

###

Peter let his amiable visage drop in an eerie slide, madness gleaming starkly in his eyes. "He and I, we have bonds forged in fire and blood. You will not get in the way of that. I will not allow it."

Stiles stared at the psychotic werewolf over the body of his mate. This was some serious déjà vu. If he were to ascribe to the notion that similar events keep happening in your life to teach you a lesson; then the lesson that he was taking away from this was that Peter needed to die, and he needed to do it in a way that was totally irrevocable. No more resurrections this time.

Stiles meant to accomplish that goal. He just had to survive this first.

###

4 hours earlier:

Stiles lay in their bed, holding Derek. It was a distinct role reversal. Werewolf healing typically prevented them from having any serious illnesses. He watched the alpha's body jerk, face grimacing in pain. Derek moaned softly, biting at his lip in an effort to hold back the sound. Stiles stroked his thick black hair away from his pale forehead, offering what comfort he could.

Dr. Morrell had no idea what was causing this. The pack could only watch uselessly as Derek grew weaker and pain began to wrack his body. In a few weeks, Derek had gone from a strong and healthy alpha to being practically bedridden.

Nothing Stiles had done was working. He'd tried everything he knew, throwing energy through the bond. At best, it only staved off the inevitable. It felt like it was all being sucked into a black hole, none of it actually helping. After a while, it actually seemed to cause Derek further pain. He was left only being able to offer physical comfort to his mate; holding him, soothing him through the worst of it, and simply being there.

Stiles hadn't worked the clinic in two weeks. Every moment was devoted to trying to either fix what was wrong, or spending every precious second with his mate. His mate; who might very well be dying.

Stiles' dad wanted to be supportive, but this brought back too many memories for the man. Knowing that if Derek died, he'd also lose his son…it was wrecking him. He was spending too much time drinking, but Stiles didn't have the ability to change that right now.

Another wave of pain crashed through Derek. The illness had been progressing at a steady rate, but today had been bad. The pain had been nearly constant and it was overwhelming Derek's ability to handle it. Stiles was deeply afraid that this meant that he didn't have a lot of time left. He'd called the pack, and they'd all stopped by earlier. They were gone now, only Isaac left in the house. He held his mate as he writhed in agony, whimpers escaping the alpha's throat.

When the pain passed, Derek lay there gasping for air. He tried to speak. He managed one word before pain ripped through him again, "…pe…ter…".

It took Stiles a minute to parse his mate's weakly whispered message. Then it slammed into him. Peter.

###

"Oh my God. Why did this never occur to me before now! Is it too late? Is there a way to stop this. There **has** to be a way to stop this. Tell me there is! There has to be!"

Peter Hale. Stiles had snatched his phone off the nightstand the moment that name had registered. He'd almost killed Derek once with his resurrection. Maybe he had a way of doing it again, only this time, making himself an alpha once more. Dr. Morrell was on speed dial and he'd gotten through. He agreed that this was a possibility.

"Stiles. Calm down. Create a circle of mountain ash around the bed. Use it to seal off all outside magical influences. See what that does."

"Ok." Stiles yanked his backpack opening, grabbing the jar. "I'm setting the phone down. Give me a sec." Concentrating, he walked a circle with the ash. With a faint rush, the circle closed. His eyes snapped open and he climbed on the bed. Derek's face was still pale; his chest rising rapidly in harsh, gasping breaths. Stiles waited for another round of pain to send his mate into agony. It didn't come.

Stiles grabbed the phone. "I think it's working!"

"Ok. Leave the circle up. I'll contact Deaton and we'll see what we can come up with. Hold tight, Stiles. This gives us something to work with."

"Right. Just hurry, okay?"

"I know. Hang in there."

Stiles clutched the phone like a lifeline. Wanting to do something, Stiles grabbed the washcloth and wiped the sweat from Derek's face. Derek didn't wake up, but pain wasn't further weakening his body. It was like being held in limbo.

Time stretched as he waited…and then snapped with a bang. There was the sound of something breaking and splintering downstairs. He climbed off the bed, and as he opened the bedroom door, he saw Isaac flying through the air. The beta slammed into the second story balcony and fell to the floor below with a hard thud. Stiles stepped forward and looked down.

Peter Hale stood downstairs, creepy grin on his face. "Stiles. How nice to see you again."

"Peter."

"What, no hello? Where are your manners? "

"I'll tell you what: end whatever you're doing to Derek, and I'll wave a cheery goodbye to you as you leave."

"Ah! So it is you who has interfered. How fascinting. That's a new development. Here I was thinking that Alan had finally figured it out, but this is so much more interesting!"

Stiles didn't want to turn his back on Peter, but he was desperately wishing for his backpack. If he lived through this, he was going to figure out how to use his powers without needing components. He bared his teeth at the werewolf. "I won't let you kill him."

Peter gave him a curious look. "I can see that you still haven't been bitten. Just what do you think you can do to stop me, Stiles?"

This had never worked for him before, but it was worth a shot. Stiles imagined a symbol in his head and he 'threw' it at Peter. Something seemed to slam into the werewolf, causing him to stagger back a step.

Peter grinned widely. "Very interesting indeed. I wish that I had more time to play with you, but this needs to be finished. It's a shame. You're a remarkable young man. You'd have so much power if you opened your eyes to it." Peter shook his head sadly. "Remember, I gave you the choice once and you denied me. It could have been so very different." Without even changing his expression, he was launching into the air.

Peter jumped and grabbed the railing, pulling himself over. Stiles went scrambling into the bedroom, trying to get his backpack. He felt claws catch his shirt, and he was forced back against Peter's chest. The werewolf pushed him into the bedroom.

Derek still lay unmoving on the bed. Peter could see the mountain ash. "Clever. But not clever enough."

He spun Stiles and basically flung him forward, causing the young man's body to slide across the floor and break the line of mountain ash. Peter stepped forward, clucking at the human. "Mountain ash. How pedestrian. You're a smart boy. I'd have thought that you could have come up with something better than that."

When Stiles had been sent skidding across the floor, he'd managed to snag his backpack. He snatched random bottles from the first available pouch. One of them was wolfsbane. Not much help if he didn't want to risk poisoning Derek along with Peter. He dropped that one, and glanced at another. Ok, that one might work. Peter was almost to the bed, so Stiles pulled himself up and flung himself over his mate.

Peter let his amiable visage drop in an eerie slide, madness gleaming starkly in his eyes. "He and I, we have bonds forged in fire and blood. You will not get in the way of that. I will not allow it."

Stiles stared at the psychotic werewolf over the body of his mate. This was some serious déjà vu. If he were to ascribe to the notion that similar events keep happening in your life to teach you a lesson; then the lesson that he was taking away from this was that Peter needed to die, and he needed to do it in a way that was totally irrevocable. No more resurrections this time.

Stiles meant to accomplish that goal. He just had to survive this first. "You're talking about Kate."

"Derek is the reason we burned. He betrayed us, you know."

"What I know is that he was a kid and she used him."

"The ties to pack and family should have been stronger than a teenaged romance!"

"God, have you been a teenager? Or maybe it's just that you've always been a psychopath! Scott couldn't think past anything but Allison when he was sixteen. I had a freaking 10 year plan that I revised to a fifteen year plan with Lydia. That's what being a hormonal teenaged male means!"

"He gave her the means to burn my family to the ground! My dear nephew is just as responsible as Kate Argent. Our family's blood is on his hands."

"What about yours? You killed Laura, and she had nothing to do with the fire!"

"That was an accident." He smirked. "Enough stalling. I'm doing what I came to do. Ultimately, it's not about revenge, Stiles. It's about power, and I want it."

Peter's hands became claws, his canines elongating. With his thumb, Stiles flipped the top of his bottle up. "You should have stayed dead!"

Stiles squeezed the bottle, spraying oil. Peter dodged some of it, but enough still splashed him. Stiles was hoping that it was enough. He screamed, "_BURN_!"

Peter's face was smug as nothing seemed to happen at first, but air was already rushing in and wrapping around him. Stiles pulled Derek off the bed and onto the floor. Behind him, the fire flared. He could hear Peter screaming and he felt the flames heat the room. He peered over the bed and then sincerely wished he hadn't. It wasn't like watching wood burn. Peter's healing tried to kick in and it prolonged everything. The bedding was on fire, caught in Peter's conflagration.

Stiles freaked. This was one of the single most scary, disturbing, gross things that he'd ever seen. In his head he chanted, "Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn." With a huge sound, the fire roared hotter and Stiles dropped back down, covering Derek. The screaming stopped, and within moments the tower of flame was gone. The bedding was still on fire and the ceiling was black. He half wondered why the fire sprinkler hadn't kicked in and then there was a soft patter of water on his face. Standing, he could see the water drops hitting ash and sending tiny plumes of dust into the air. The floor was scorched and warped.

Stiles stood for a moment, mind blank. Then he grabbed Derek under the arms and dragged him out into the hallway. Only the sprinkler in the room had activated, so it was dry out there. He left for a minute to check on Isaac. The beta was still out. He ran back up the stairs, mind in a haze. It occurred to him to text the pack. "Killed Peter. Bedrm on fire. Come plz."

He dropped next to Derek and sat there. Holy God. He'd just burned Peter to death. Mind still not registering, he realized belatedly that he needed to make sure that killing Peter hadn't hurt Derek somehow. He looked over. Derek was still breathing. That was a good sign, right? Breathing equals good.

Water began trickling out of the bedroom and he vaguely wondered when the sprinkler would shut off. He watched the stream meander out the door, across the landing, and start trickling down the stairs. He was watching it drip and flow when Scott came barreling through the ruined door downstairs. "Stiles? Stiles!"

"Oh, that's me. Here!"

The beta's head swiveled up and spotted his friend. He stopped to check on Isaac, but in a few bounds he was kneeling next to Derek and Stiles. "You ok? Where's Peter?"

"He's a pile of ash." Stiles waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the bedroom.

Scott looked inside, and looked back at Stiles. "The override is downstairs, right?"

"Override?"

"Never mind. I'll be right back." He shot Stiles a strange look and took off.

Stiles heard the spray shut off at the same time the Erica, Boyd, and Danny arrived. They took in the busted door, Isaac laying on the floor, and water flowing down the stairs. Erica nodded at the guys and helped Isaac. The other two headed upstairs.

Sheriff Stilinski wasn't far behind them, and he could hear Lydia in the driveway. As soon as she was inside she looked for Stiles. "Tell me that bastard is really dead this time! Tell me he won't be haunting me!"

For Lydia, he could make his legs work…so he stood, his dad catching him as his knees tried to give out. He made it to the door and pointed at the ash, now a wet sludge being washed away by the water. "I don't think he can resurrect himself from that." He looked at his dad. "He can't, can he?"

"No, son. I'm pretty sure that there's no coming back from that." He eased his son back down and looked him over. "I think you're in shock."

The Sheriff took over, directing Boyd to grab Derek and bring him downstairs. Danny picked up Stiles, and they got him situated on the couch. They put his feet up on pillows and covered him with a blanket. He called Deaton and Dr. Morrell, and both assured him that they'd be there as soon as possible. Mrs. McCall was at work, but she promised to come as soon as she could.

Stiles' dad periodically checked Stiles' pulse, and for some reason it made the young man giggle. Scott and Boyd kept looking at him strangely. Lydia had to explain, "He's in shock, you idiots. Stop looking at him like he's a freak."

"Why would he be in shock?"

"I don't know, Scott. Let me think. Maybe because he just burned Derek's uncle to death in his bedroom! Who knows what else Peter did to him." She shook her head at him, obviously a bit rattled herself, and being a tad bitchy. She sat down with a huff.

Deaton was next to arrive. He assured Stiles (and Lydia) that Peter wasn't coming back this time. He also set Scott to cleaning up. "Not all of us can navigate a wet set of wooden stairs without risk."

When Dr. Morrell came, he looked everybody over. By that time, Stiles was coherent and functioning reasonably normally. Dr. Morrell decided that Isaac just needed some time to finish healing. Then he looked over Derek. "Stiles, can you come here please?"

The doctor directed Stiles, "Reach for him with the bond."

Stiles sat down and lifted Derek's head into his lap. Placing his hands on either side of his mate's face, he reached out through their link. He fed energy through the line; gently at first, and then stronger when he realized that it wasn't hurting Derek. He felt a spark of awareness and suddenly Derek was just _there_, his presence wrapping around Stiles' mind. When he opened his eyes, the alpha was looking up at him.

Stiles had started out the day thinking that he was going to lose his mate; and now Derek looked up at him, eyes clear and free of pain. Stiles sniffed, a few tears dripping to fall on his mate's face. He wiped them away quickly. "Must be the water seeping through the ceiling."

~~Fin


End file.
